Please Stop Touching Me
by TheNoblePorpoise
Summary: Valentine's Day is here. Love is in the air. So is the fear toxin. I swear I'm not dead, just lazy!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This has and probably never will belong to me, no matter how many pennies I throw in the well.

This Is for Techie and Nova, so they'll shut the hell up.

Warning! This has some naughty language. But than again, if you were in the same situation, you'd be cursing, too.

* * *

Have you ever had one of those days? Your goldfish commits suicide. Your toaster spontaneously combusts. You lose your eyebrows in a horrible accident with your electric toothbrush. Your underwear catches on fire. You know, one of those I-wish-God-would-send-a-herd-of-rabid-porcupines-to-finish-me-off kind of days.

Zoë was having one of those days.

While she wasn't quite to porcupine level of desperation, closer to muskrat level of doom if you really wanted to know, her day had been less than productive. After a rather long morning of mechanical mishaps and fiery fuck-ups, she was at the end of her patience. She had foolishly decided to deposit one of her older paychecks during some of the busiest bank hours. The lines were extremely long and the prospects of her getting this errand done within the hour were abysmal. While waiting in this line, Zoë made what was most likely the stupidest decision of her life.

She decided that her day couldn't get any worse.

The Gods could not ignore such an idiotic statement. Normally they would just call upon the forces of rain. Unfortunately, the target of their divine retribution was inside a building. Drastic measures were called for. The gods that governed the so-called Murphy's Law gathered to discuss possible actions.

Contrary to popular belief, Murphy's Law was not governed by one god but by many and not one of them was named Murphy. While the gods argued over what course should be taken, Sugarbutt, the goddess who ruled what side a donut fell on, and Steve, the god who made sure that a person always had an odd number of socks, took a closer look at the young woman.

Brown hair, pale skin, and gray eyes, Zoë was never one to stick out in a crowd. She was perfectly average in nearly every way except for one thing. She carried the Mark of Fate which, appropriately enough, manifested itself as a large flashing bull's-eye.

The mark dictated that the carrier was guaranteed a life-altering, most likely agonizing, and humiliating experience. It also allowed the gods to do whatever the hell they felt like to her, so long as she survived with most of her limbs intact. In other words, Zoë's day was going to get much, much worse. Especially since she had been claimed by one god, or goddess, in particular.

Eris.

Eris had been watching this mortal for some time. Not because she had any interesting abilities or things of that nature, but rather because of someone she had associated with in the past. During college, Zoë had roomed with one Harleen Quinzel. While Zoë didn't think much of their short acquaintance, Harley had never forgotten her bookish roommate.

In fact, Eris did not have to put much effort into preparing the world for her entertainment. All she had to do was pluck Zoë's name from the recesses of Harley's mind. Harley did the rest.

Eris was really going to enjoy herself.

--

Valentine's Day was a few days away. The streets were decorated in garish hearts and ribbons. Shops were showing off their best merchandise. From stuffed animals to KY warming gel, Gotham had everything anyone could need for a romantic evening.

In Zoë's opinion, it was completely and utterly disgusting. Of course, she wasn't saying this because she was alone this year. And she definitely wasn't jealous.

Not Zoë.

(Cough.)

Unfortunately for Zoë, she was too engrossed in her thoughts, mainly of taking a baseball bat to any couple that even _thought_ about swapping bodily fluids in front of her, to notice she was being followed. But she did notice when she was roughly dragged into one of the abandoned warehouses that populated the rougher side of town.

_Way to stay on your toes, dumbass._

She struggled as hard as she could but she was unable to break free of her abductor's grip.

"Calm down, toots, I ain't gonna hurt ya!"

"Harley?"

"The same!" Harley grinned.

Zoë was astonished by Harley's appearance. Last time she had seen her in person she had still dressed somewhat normally, and the pictures in the papers didn't do her justice. But it was obvious that Harley had changed little from her wild college days. Just like old times.

"Harley, I love you to death, but next time you want to see me, can you find some other way to get my attention than kidnapping me? There are these things called phones. I think you might have heard of them."

"Yeah. This was funnier. Come on. I got something to show you."

Zoë was less than pleased as Harley dragged her further into the alley and into an abandoned and decrepit building. Of course the outside of the building gave little clue or warning as to what she was fixing to experience. To her surprise, Zoë was led into a jungle. Exotic trees populated the room. The walls were hidden behind the vines that covered them. A soft moss grew on the floor, cushioning Zoë's every step.

It was paradise.

Harley led her deep into the miniature rainforest. The farther they walked, the more amazed she became. As they progressed, the sunlight grew dimmer, only to be replaced by the glow of a luminescent moss. All in all, the place was very beautiful. Zoë wasn't sure what disturbed her more; her surroundings or the maniacal grin Harley wore.

--


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry I haven't posted in….forever. I could give you some long-winded explanation about how I was gravely injured in a goldfish attack or how my second cousin's best friend's boy friend's toad was run over by a tricycle, but I won't.

I'm just really lazy.

Once again I must remind you that I own nothing and this fiction has some coarse language. If that offends you, go away.

-

* * *

- 

I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning. Or maybe I should have gone back to bed after my kitchen was set on fire for the second time in half an hour. That pigeon attack was a warning I should have heeded. It was too late now. _Way_ too late. And now I was being led to what I was sure would be my doom.

Yeah, this is not my happy face.

Harley had been talking nonstop. Of course, I hadn't heard much of what she'd been saying as she hadn't been facing me. Or enunciating. But what I did hear was disturbing. Shall I list some examples?

"Just perfect for each other."

"So romantic!"

"He'll love you!"

"I'm so excited."

Last time Harley got excited about something I was involved in, three city blocks were destroyed and twenty-seven people needed therapy for years afterwards. The fact that it was the week of Valentine's Day and Harley has always shown an unhealthy interest in my love life boded ill.

You can see why I was nervous, can't you?  
So, we've established the approximate level of my apprehension, yes? It tripled once she dragged me into this clearing. Why, you may ask? Because the word that described this place best was "love-nest."

Oh, my God.

It was a blind date.

Arkham style.

Why did I suddenly wish for the presence of porcupines? I didn't get to ponder my strange desire because, apparently, we'd arrived. Dare I hope that I might escape with both life and limbs intact? Personally, I thought someone was going to lose something. Especially since Harley had pushed me headfirst into the clearing. It's no surprise that I tripped; I've never been known for my grace and it didn't help that roots were everywhere. What's surprising is what happened next.

Usually when someone trips, especially when they know they're going down, they flail about, trying to grab on to anything they can to stop their fall. I am no different from any of these people. What I grabbed onto, however, was something I don't think everybody has the desire to use as an emergency brake. Have I built your suspense to a sufficient level? Are you all aquiver with excitement? You shouldn't be. I had just signed my own death warrant. Shall I summarize?

I tripped.

I grabbed onto the closest thing I could reach.

What were they, you ask?

Pants.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N.: Long time, no post.

Oops.

I'm going to try to do better, honestly. I swear. No more naughty Al.

Maybe……

Once again, this isn't mine and it has bad language.

* * *

Have you ever had one of those moments where time stands still? You hold your breath in order to maintain the peace and the beauty of the moment. You can almost hear the various creatures singing a song urging you to kiss the girl.

This was not one of those moments. Yes, time may have stood still. Yes, I stopped breathing, but it was from terror, I assure you. And there definitely weren't any singing crustaceans.

Those pants I had used in my futile attempt to avoid the inevitable were occupied.

By the Scarecrow.

Oh. My. God.

I just pantsed the Scarecrow.

Oh, don't let those knobby knees fool you. This man is extremely dangerous, especially to people who are stupid enough to judge by appearances.

_I_ was about to become hysterical.

I just knew I was going to cry. Oh, if looks could kill. I'm sure if he hadn't been gagged by vines, he would have let me know how much he appreciated me at that moment.

I didn't get to ponder my imminent doom for long, as vines grabbed me by the waist and yanked me into the air. Bad move. I still hadn't let go of the Scarecrow's (eep!) pants and when that sudden movement jarred him, some of his toxin was released right behind my head. Had the vines not pulled me through the cloud, I would have been fine. Instead, I was exposed to some of the toxin. It wasn't enough to send me wailing to Arkham, but…

Spiders everywhere.

_Oh, God, going to get me. Gotta get away._

_Let me go!_


	4. Chapter 4

Not mine, damn it all!

Naughty language, yadda yadda yadda.

Happy belated Birthday Tech-Tech! May your blades never dull!

-

* * *

-

"Oh, good. She's awake."

"Ya think she'll be okay?"

"She should be."

I slowly opened my eyes. I could see Harley and a woman I recognized as Poison Ivy. I was surrounded by supervillains.

Obviously, this day could have gone much better.

I don't know how long I was out, but I was still feeling the toxin. Shadows were gathering in the edges of my vision, forming vague but threatening shapes. The way that the Scarecrow was staring at me wasn't helping my current state of mind.

"Ya okay, toots?"

"Feel…icky." _Can someone make the world stop moving? I want to get off._

"Is this a good idea, Red? Will the lust dust make her sick now that she's got some of Professor Crane's toxin in her?"

Lust dust?

Oh, fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Wait…wrong choice of words, there.

(Twitch.)

"No, she didn't get a large enough dose to interfere with my pheromones."

I could feel the vines shifting, bringing me closer to the Scarecrow. Oh, no no no no no no…

"Don't worry," Harley squeaked. "This won't hurt a bit!"

_Gotta stall._

"Wait!" My voice was rough from all the screaming I probably did while under the influence of the toxin. "What are you going to do?"

"We're going to dose you with some of my special pheromones," Poison Ivy started to explain. There must have been some words Harley couldn't pronounce. Or understand.

_Hey, I've been kidnapped, gassed, and I pantsed a supervillain. I'm allowed to be bitchy._

"Harley feels that the two of you are meant for each other. Since you were unlikely to meet under normal circumstances, and even less likely to start dating, Harley enlisted my help. I'm here to help speed things along."

It was a bad sign when Harley put on a gas mask. The Scarecrow and I were struggling against the vines, not that it did any good. We were soon enveloped by a swirling pink mist. When I tried to hold my breath, I failed miserably. The "lust dust" was thick and sweet-smelling, causing both of us to cough loudly. We had both been dosed with the aphrodisiac. Oh, no…

_I don't want to bear little bundles of fear!_

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Wait a minute. I felt…normal? I did! If it had worked, wouldn't I feel like jumping the Scarecrow? I didn't have any urges to cuddle or perform any squelchy acts of affection with him. Maybe Poison Ivy was wrong, maybe the fear toxin did interact with the aphrodisiac. Maybe the dust didn't work.

Oh, snoogies.

Have you ever been given googly eyes by a supervillain? It was just…freaky. He looked like he wanted to eat me. Or do naughty things to me. Probably both.

"We'll just leave you two alone. Have fun!"

"Yeah. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Zoë!"

If I survived this, Harley and I were going to have a little chat about her interfering with my love life.

So they left. Then I was alone with an "affectionate" Scarecrow. _At least the vines are still holding us apart, right?_

Wrong.

Right then, the only thing holding me was the Scarecrow. As soon as the vines dropped us, he was kneeling by my side. After a thorough check to see if I had been injured (I had to slap his hands to keep him from lingering over certain areas he found interesting) he pulled me into his arms. He may look scrawny but he's a wiry guy. I couldn't get away. He had his head on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck.

It tickled and I wanted to go home.


	5. Chapter 5

If it were actually mine, do you think Scarecrow would ever end up beaten by Batman?

Not mine!

Bad language!

Hulk SMASH!

-

* * *

- 

I don't know how long it had been since Ivy and Harley left us, but I was still snuggling with the Scarecrow. He seemed to respect my "no snoo-snoo" rules, but he wouldn't let me go. He seemed content enough to just cuddle with me…_For now_.

_Apparently, the Scarecrow really likes hugs._

I needed to get out of there. He may have been docile then, but what about later? What if he got pissed off with my continued refusals to "just call him Jonathan"? I had a vague plan, but if it went wrong—_with the way this day is going, it probably will_—I might end up seeing how soft that bed of moss really was. _May the Force be with me._

But first, I needed an idea.

…

_Nope, still drawing a blank._

I didn't have any ninja skills or anything of the like. I doubted that I'd be able to outrun him; that boy's got long legs. The only option I could see was to distract him or something. Maybe tie him up? There were vines everywhere, and if I couldn't get one of those, the rope he used as a belt should do.

_I'll use his belt; I don't think the vines would appreciate it. Besides, if I use my feminine wiles (don't laugh, it's not nice) it should be easy to get it off him._

And if I acted like I was into the whole bondage thing, he might actually play along.

_"Who's been a naughty boy?"_

Nope. I couldn't quite see myself in leather or hear him saying, "thank you, may I have another."

_Stop thinking, Zoë! Bad thoughts! _Bad_ thoughts!_

_All right, Zoë, you can do this!_

Wait a minute…

_He's asleep? He's asleep! Oh, thank God!_

This was a much nicer way to escape. It was not a simple matter to pry his hands off me. Let me tell you, he has got a grip!

Time to make my escape!

Well, crap. I couldn't just leave him there. He looked so sad. He might still be asleep, but I think he could tell I was not within reach. His brow was furrowed and he was groping for something, most likely me. I covered him with my coat and the difference was immediate. He was completely wrapped up in the fabric with a small smile on his face.

_Aww…he looks so cute._

_Okay. Need to leave._ Now.

* * *

I'd like to take this oppourtunity to thank my veeeeery nice reviewers.

AND I need a little help guys. If you have ideas pertaining to this current work of fiction, feel free to pm them to me. I have The Morrigan finished and my sole goal is to finish this one. And post it, of course.

Audience participation, ftw!!


	6. Chapter 6

It not mine! If you've read the previous chapters, you would know this already ya dumbass.

And if the disclaimer wasn't enough warning, yes there is naughty language in here.

And I would love to thank dwj for pointing out something I'm ashamed to have missed. Naughty Nikkums. Very, very bad!

And I would like to thank all of you for your lovely reviews and being this patient with me. I'm more of a gamer than I am a writer so this is a little weird for me. And continue sending me ideas! I loves all them plot bunnies, I do. Especially if you have an idea about what the Scarecrow would use as a pet name! Snugglebunny, anyone?

On to the story!

* * *

It didn't take me long to reach my apartment. It probably helped that I ran like I was being chased by those rabid porcupines I had been thinking about.

_I think I'm safe now._

Hopefully, he was still curled up with my coat. Hopefully, he didn't learn anything about me but my name. Hopefully, he wouldn't be able to find me.

That's a lot of hope. Too much for me to actually trust in. _I think it's time for a vacation. I've heard Metropolis is lovely this time of year. I'll pack after I've had a nice cup of tea. Yeah, that sounds nice. I'll have some Earl Grey and maybe a nap._

A nap in my favorite armchair couldn't hurt.

--

I really didn't feel like moving yet. It was nice and warm in my bed.

Wait a minute…bed?

_Didn't I fall asleep in my armchair? I know that I definitely didn't have arms wrapped around my waist. Ah, hell. I really, really,_ really_ don't want to open my eyes right now._

I finally got brave enough to open my eyes and confirm my suspicions. Yep. It was the Scarecrow. He looked like he was having good dreams. Probably about me, damn it all.

_How did he find out where I live? Harley might have said something. Maybe I left something in my coat pocket? Oh, shit! My bank slips! I had my bank slips in my coat pocket._

_I am an idiot._

An idiot who was currently being cuddled by one of the most feared supervillains in Gotham.

Oh, lucky me.

At least one of us was happy.

How the hell was I going to get out of this one? Maybe I could repeat my last escape. _I've wriggled from his grip before and I can do it again._

Or I could have done it again if my alarm hadn't gone off. Any hope that I had of the alarm not waking him up was shattered when he leaned over me to shut it off.

"Hi," he said.

Oh, God. The puppy-dog eyes. He was so happy to see me. I couldn't run from that. Not that I didn't want to. I just literally couldn't get out of his death grip.

"Uh…good morning?"

--

Eris cackled as the mortal wormed her way out of the Straw-Man's grasp, claiming that she wanted to "freshen up." Eris couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much as she watched the mortal's clumsy attempt to climb out her washroom window without alerting him. Watching the mortal run was amusing but it could be _so_ much better.

Eris snapped her fingers.

There, that should do it.

--

Zoë tried to avoid crashing into debris as she sprinted down the alleyway. She didn't want him to learn of her escape too soon. The longer he didn't know she was missing, the farther she could run.

A lovesick supervillian is bad enough but a lovesick _angry_ supervillian wasn't something she wanted to encounter.

Of course, figuring out where she would go was a completely different sack of porcupines. She had to get out of Gotham and fast. If she'd had the opportunity to grab some cash she'd be on the first flight to Ecuador.

Why Ecuador, you ask?

After her last vacation with Harley she was banned from ever entering many, many countries and Ecuador was one of the few she could.

There! There was her escape. A police cruiser had parked near the entrance of the alley she currently occupied. Surely they would help her?

Nope.

Wrong again, Smegface!


	7. Chapter 7

I just thought I'd let you know that I'm not quite dead (yet), just easily distracted. Without Captain and Techie bothering me endlessly, I tend to forget that I need to finish this. Eh heh. I think I know where this story is going but I still want to hear your ideas. And pet names. Tee hee. Feel free to start bugging me endlessly. Maybe annoying me will keep my mind on writing. So start pm-ing me your abuse and ideas pur-lease.

Not mine. Bad words. Yeah.

* * *

One point that many will agree on is that Jonathan Crane is a smart man, even under the influence of strong pheromones and a traumatizing pantsing. By this point he had already realized that she wasn't quite sincere in her attitude towards him. He fully intended to let her escape (or let her think she had) and use the time to learn about the woman from her own home.

So he watched her flee from him.

Temporarily, at least.

He intended to drink up every moment of her escape, from the way her body moved to the intoxicating expression of fear on her face.

Mmm. Splendid.

What he didn't intend was for her to be arrested at the end of the alley. He did not like these men handling her _at all_. Much less _roughly_.

This would not do.

She was _his_. These men _dare_ to touch what was his? To call forth that beautiful terror that belonged solely to _him_?

They would suffer. All of them would know unending terror for touching her.

And then she would be his.


End file.
